The Stolen Memory
by NocheKrovoche
Summary: Are you ready for it? WARNING: slash meaning boyxboy, but just mild SASUNARU. a bit confusing too...READ and REVIEW please.


**The stolen memory**

**By: Nochekrovoche**

_~I do not own any of the characters~_

The dirt path was still as dusty as ever, the dead leaves littering the ground. He racks his brain in utter confusion as to why he thinks that, when he doesn't reckon ever being in this part of the village before. The wind picked up its pace and blew harshly on his back, ruffling his golden turf of hair. There was something about this place that's making him sad. He feels like he wants to leave this place and never come back again, while at the same time, stay there and never leave the place.

†.†.†.†

He approached the looming tall gates of the mansion he knew only from a far away memory or, perhaps, a dissolved dream. The large, wooden double-doors stood further afterwards and his face grew dark as he found himself being drawn towards them by an unfathomable force. Golden brown leaves and cracked earth crunched under his sure, measured steps-a sound he welcomed against the solemn silence of the gloomy house. He soon found himself taking a familiar brass key from under the mat, almost as if it was he who put it there a long time ago. There were so many other questions of importance he had yet to find sufficient answers to, so what's wrong with adding this mystery to the list?

His muscles twitched involuntarily as he inserted the key to its place and turned the knob. Again, the house was no more unfamiliar to him than the dirt path and the brass key. He saw the living room, the couches and the small coffee table still in its rightfully familiar place as it had been in his myriad puzzle of a memory. Flimsy white drapes were still hanging from every window of the massive house as the wind howls through them, a hollow sound he was half-heartedly expecting.

†.†.†.†

In a few more seconds, he was sure that this wasn't any dream from his sleep induced euphoria. He recalled faintly of the strong aroma of breakfast and coffee made in the kitchen one too many times in his memory, a pair of muscular arms wrapped securely around his thin waist as he looked out a window from the room two doors down the corridor of the second floor, the warmth of a body keeping him close as he held on to that person. It was a reality he was sure that happened.

There were more visions that plagued him: white-cold snow covering the ground and rooftops, a pair of warm lips on his; the sun so high up in the sky, sweet breath blowing on his face; tender leaves caught in the air, large hands holding his tightly; flowers blooming in the large field stretched out, a smile so bright he has come to love.

Then, a pair of haunted eyes boring through his soul, cold words cutting the air as sharp as a kunai, and tears he couldn't control flowing easily down his face.

He knew this was real. He knew this _is_ real.

†.†.†.†

His heart throbbed painfully, jerking him back from his stupor. He slid down to the floor, realizing for the first time that he was crying-crying as he had when he was still a mere six year old, promising himself never to snivel as he had been doing so. But the forgotten promise crumbled alongwith his heart as he felt the stinging pain wrack his nerves. He stayed still, sobbing and sniffing until the pounding turned into a dull ache in his chest.

Amidst the agony he felt, he still couldn't remember who the owner of the house was. He remembered dark eyes, the color of burning coals, pale and angular face twisted with emotions he could not recognize, and a voice as smooth as velvet on skin spouting fire aimed at him, but the name would evade his pervading mind. How perfect this angel of destruction was, he thought, malevolently disguising himself and shattering his reality into irreparable pieces.

†.†.†.†

He stood up quickly, feeling a very familiar chakra nearby. In a few seconds, he was at the door again, clumsily fumbling with the key as his hands shook. It was him-he was sure of it. There was no other person with the same powerful aura as him. Fear drained the color of his already pale face as his breaths became ragged at the thought of being caught within the other man's territory. There would be no escaping once that happens.

The locks clicked into place, and finally, he freed himself from the confines of the menacing mansion. He ran blindly out on the streets, the wide paths devoid of anyone as it had already gone too dark, but he knew that he couldn't stop now. In his frantic flee, he left the door gaping wide open and forgot to put the key back, still clutching it tightly in his fist. He knew he couldn't go home and risk the lives of his neighbours should a fight ensue there. No, he would have to find a safer place, he thought, and veered off to the direction of the large expanse of trees and shrubs.

His mind reeled back into other things. He remembered how the other man fights, knows that he never gives mercy to his opponents. Even when his rationality was only a trickle right now, he knows that he won't win this battle, but he has to make sure that no one else gets hurt-no matter if the price would be his life.

†.†.†.†

He doesn't know why death was the only thing he could think about. Later, he would think that there was nothing wrong with entering an empty house since the said building was already confiscated by the hokage, and much later, he would find it more puzzling why he was running away from a person he doesn't remember completely, even if the man was truly frightening from what little he had could recall. All of that will be for a moment much, much later because, as adrenaline pumped his legs to go further, there was nothing else he wanted to do but curl underneath anything that would hide him from his unseen enemy.

How his unfocused eyes miraculously found a little cove in the forest was beyond him, but he had no other choice except to find shelter there. He dashed forward, diving onto the ground-but his motion was interrupted as a pair of hands materialized seemingly out of nowhere, one flying to his mouth and the other trapping his body in his assaulter's arms.

†.†.†.†

A torrent of emotions rushed to his head and he closed his eyes as tears sprang at the brim of his eyes. He doesn't know why a man he barely recognize could inflict this much damage to him, why his emotions easily resurface when no other person can-not even Sakura or the hokage or-.

He stopped his train of thoughts, because he knew that it was futile. This man, with broad shoulders and strong arms, is not like any other person in his life. He was too different from them in ways he doesn't remember, but knows at the furthest part of his mind.

His knees gave out, having run out when he was still feeling weak from crying, the unknown man supporting his weight, as the hand obscuring his face muffled the sobs he kept trying to stop. His captor lowered both of them to the ground, and he was shocked with what happened next.

†.†.†.†

The hand over his mouth retracted, reaching his own small, tan hands and stroking them softly in slow rhythmic circles. He suddenly became aware of the lulling voice that's gently whispering at his ears-the same voice he remembers that whipped cruelly at him.

This man, the one with fearsome eyes and scalding hot temper, became the man in his memory who blew kisses on his face and smiles down at him with blissful love. And he began to wonder if he was only hallucinating, but the feeling of the warmth emitting from the man's body was a sure reality he couldn't block out.

A genjutsu, maybe? But this is too real. It can't be.

†.†.†.†

It took him a few more minutes to realize that he wasn't crying or shaking anymore, but they were still rocking, and that there was something wet on his shoulder. His heart gave a leap as recognition dawned to him.

_Uchiha Sasuke._

The name engraved on his heart. The man crying on his shoulder whispering "I'm sorry". The person he swore to love.

†.†.†.†

He lifted his free hand to touch the pale cheek nestled on his shoulder in silent apology. It was as warm as the owner, and he knew that there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be.

The moon shone down on them, stars twinkling against the dark firmament. He thought pleasantly that it had been a long time since he was home, but he wouldn't have had it any other way.

His memories restored.

-Fin.-


End file.
